


Ebb and Flow

by Symphony_Hawthorn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Head Injury, Hurt No Comfort, Langst, Post-Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symphony_Hawthorn/pseuds/Symphony_Hawthorn
Summary: He floats in water, eyes closed and waiting. They want to find something, but there is nothing. He floats waiting and for the first time he thinks of something.An ebb and flow.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Ebb and Flow

The worst part, he thinks, is that he can’t remember any of it. Then suddenly, all he knows is closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable. 

It should freak him out.

But it doesn’t.

Like floating; it’s easy.

What freaks him out is the sad face everyone around him has. Mouths thin and eyes reading hurt. 

As if…

he did something.

But all there is, is nothing and knowing that there was something, and that sudden moment of closing his eyes and waiting. 

They say waiting is the answer. That waiting is the only option. 

There is a woman with wavy hair like his that looks bitter and hard. There is a woman with his face that looks lost. There are people with faces that are blurs as soon as they turn around. 

Mouths pulled into tight lines. 

Sharp and thin.

Ready to split the faces he doesn’t know.

There are people who want him to reach for something. One suggests a lion. A connection to guide him back. He doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like; so he can’t search for it. He doesn’t tell them that he doesn’t know what a lion is. 

He tells them there are too many people. That’s why he can’t remember faces. The woman with wavy hair is there again. She talks, and he knows nothing. 

She is hurt. 

The woman with his face cries. 

He stops telling them that he can’t remember. 

He stops telling them anything.

There are too many people and he can’t be expected to know everyone. 

He doesn’t know what they want. He doesn’t know what they need.

Only that there was something and now there is nothing.

One with a face that blurs gives him a flat square. A tablet, they said. To read; it would help.

He doesn’t know the time that passes. Sometime later a blurry face asks him if he is enjoying it. He looks at them hard, seeing only the mouth still thin and ready to bisect, pulled unnaturally upwards. He wonders about teeth, whites that sit in rows behind lips good to chop. The mouth cuts further as the blurry face seems to realize that he did nothing.

Another came into the room along with a white coat. Too many. His head hurts. 

They handed him a flat square. A tablet. They asked him to unlock it. He doesn’t tell them that he doesn’t know how. That the things on its surface have no meaning. A blurry face takes it from him, hands big and coloured like his own. He looks at nails and thinks he can see them grow. A finger slides across the screen and he is given the square again. He wonders how long those nails will grow on big hands coloured like his.

The woman with his face is there. He’s not sure how she got in the room when he was looking at the door the whole time. Suddenly he remembers closing his eyes and waiting. Upon opening his eyes he finds the woman with his face gone. 

He does not see her again. 

They dwindle one by one. 

People around him with burry faces keep talking, he is not here. They speak of lions and quintessence. He floats in water, eyes closed and waiting. They want to find something, but there is nothing. He floats waiting and for the first time he thinks of something.

An ebb and flow.

He thinks he remembers because he remembers closing his eyes and waiting. 

It’s easy and sooths the hurt the burry faces with mouths that cut bring.

He doesn’t tell them what he doesn’t know. He doesn’t tell them that there is nothing. He doesn’t tell them of waiting and floating. Of an ebb and flow. 

He doesn’t tell them, that with eyes closed he will wait for the inevitable.


End file.
